The Devil Comes to Whitechapel
by Lady Castamere
Summary: After the loss of the Abrahamians, Chandler strives to bring the team together. When two mysterious strangers turn up on Chandler's doorstep one evening, he and the team learn that there is much more going on in Whitechapel than meets the eye: Buchan's theory about the gates of Hell perhaps isn't too far from the truth. (Possible spoilers for all seasons of Whitechapel and Buffy.)
1. Chapter 1

"So, who's for more eggnog?" Miles called out from the kitchen.

"I can't say no to more alcohol." chuckled Mansell, brandishing an empty glass, as Joe rose from the large leather sofa, his own glass in hand, and began to make the rounds for used crockery.

"I'll have another, Skip," piped Kent, handing his glass to Chandler.

"Ooh, I suppose I'll be cheeky and have one more," giggled Riley, allowing Joe to take her glass also.

"None for me thanks, Joe," said Ed with a half-smile as Chandler approached, "I'd rather be awake for the Secret Santa."

"I'll have yours then, Ed." Quipped Mansell, much to the amusement of the team. Their laughter was just dying away, as a few chuckled accusations of 'lightweight' were strewn towards Ed, as Joe rounded the corner into the spotless kitchen. It was Joe's favourite room: the gleaming marble worktops and stainless steel appliances were easy to keep clean, and they gave off a soft satisfying sheen under the lights. In one corner stood a sleek black fridge freezer, from which Miles emerged with a fresh carton of eggnog.

"I'll have one too, please, Ray." Joe said as he set the glasses down on the nearest surface. "Everyone looks to be getting on much better. You were right; a get-together seems to be just what everyone needed."

"Just wait until the Secret Santa starts," joked Miles, as he began to fill the empty glasses. There was a short pause; the muffled sounds of chatter and Riley laughing could be heard from the living room.

"You know, you could have brought Judy and the kids," said Joe, "I wouldn't have minded, really-"

"No, Boss, it's alright: today's about the team, anyway." Another paused followed, filled only by the clink of glasses as Miles put them on a tray, and the distant murmur of voices in the next room. "Besides," he continued, "wouldn't want Liam making a mess of your nice clean carpet."

Joe laughed. "I already took that risk with Finley," he said. Miles chuckled at that before carefully taking the eggnog back, followed by Joe. Mansell must have cracked another one of his crude jokes, because as the two men returned, the room was filled with groans as Mansell cackled, and Riley slapped his harm with a look of mirth-ridden disgust.

"Behave," mocked Miles as he dished out the drinks, "or no more alcohol for you."

Mansell dismissed the remark with a snort as Ray finally handed him the last glass. Joe seated himself next to Kent as Miles squeezed in between Riley and Ed on the sofa opposite. There was a lull as everyone took a gulp of their drinks.

"Right then," Miles said, rubbing his hands together, "Who's for a board game? I brought Trivial Pursuit, Monopoly, and that Ripper one Sanders got me the other year..."

There was a collective groan. Miles held up his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright! Secret Santa it is. You wanna pass out the bag then, Emerson?"

Kent seemed to jolt a little, like he was surprised Miles had asked, but when he realised it was he who was closest to the large plastic bag on the sideboard filled with presents, he was quick to oblige. Being careful not to disturb any of the precisely placed baubles on the neatly decorated Christmas tree as he lifted the bag from its resting place, Kent quickly distributed the presents among the team. He handed a messily wrapped package – Mansell's handiwork, he suspected – to Ed; a pristinely wrapped box – Joe's, no doubt - went to Riley; the present after that, bearing signs of what Kent suspected was marker pen, he gave to Finley. He found his present next, wrapped in a vintage styled paper that was just beginning to fox at one corner, and carefully placed it on the couch next to Joe as he handed the Inspector the last package, with slightly trembling fingers, that he had wrapped himself.

"Doesn't the purpose of a Secret Santa sort of... defeat itself?" Ed asked as he watched everyone inspect their presents. "We are detectives."

"Yeah," agreed Mansell with a laugh. He gestured to Miles with his gift, "I hope you've got me something good, Skip."

"Well, that will depend on what you've bought for me, Detective," Ed teased, with a big toothy grin, "Why don't you go first, Joe. You are the host, after all."

"Alright, then." Joe took up the parcel into his hands and made a charade of scrutinising the wrapping, trying to discern what was inside. In the end he gave up, and carefully peeled off the sellotape, parting the paper to reveal a small, folded cloth.

"It's bright yellow." Joe said, trying not to sound too disdainful. He drew the gift out of the wrappings and into the air, allowing it to unravel. It was then that Joe could see it was a tie, with the words 'POLICE LINE: DO NOT CROSS' printed along its length. The absurdity of it made him laugh: "What on earth..?"

"Novelty tie," Kent sheepishly explained, wringing his hands in his lap. "I thought since you sort of missed out the first time everyone got together and wore one... plus it's McCormack's memorial service soon, and since it was his idea in the first place... I thought we could all..."

"It's very thoughtful – and very fetching. Thank you, Emerson." Joe reassured him with a big smile as he proceeded to fasten the newly acquired tie neatly around his neck.

It was at that moment there came precise knock at the door. Everyone threw a confused glance at Joe.

"Did anyone invite a plus one?" asked Miles. Without answering, Joe got up from the sofa, followed by his sergeant, as the knocking began again more persistently.

"Yes, alright." Joe snapped as he fumbled with the latch, spurred on by yet more knocking. When he finally, gingerly, opened the door he was greeted by two complete strangers.

The first was a man. Joe would have described him as tall, dark and handsome had it not been for the frankly alarming shade of his hair - an extreme bleached blonde, which only seemed to succeed in making him appear paler and more sallow than he was. Dressed in shabby combat trousers, boots and a faded purple t-shirt, he carried himself with the arrogant lilt that Joe was used to seeing in teenagers and gang leaders, and his 'bad boy' status was only elevated by the floor length black leather coat he wore. Next to him was a woman, shorter by at least a head. At first she looked to be fairly normal, apart from her perhaps overly festive clothing choice – a deep sage green turtleneck, jeans and a bright red calf-length overcoat, trimmed at the cuffs, collar and hem with white fur – but then Joe noticed how her ears ended in points, and her eyes were an unmistakable bright acid yellow.

"Who the hell are you?" Miles demanded.

"Which of you is Joseph Chandler?" asked the woman, seemingly ignoring Miles' outburst.

"That would be me. You are?"

"My name is Talia. This is Spike." She flashed a grin, revealing rows of pointed teeth. "Can we come in?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Thank you." Talia said, nudging past Joe and into the hallway before he could answer. She was just beginning to remove her coat when the man, Spike, cleared his throat expectantly, arching an eyebrow as he did so.

"Oh. My friend needs an invitation."

"Sorry?"

"Spike. He has to be invited in."

"Why?" Joe demanded, "What do you people want?"

"Look, mate," said Spike, folding his arms in a superior sort of way as he moved closer to the threshold. It seemed he stepped too close, as he very suddenly recoiled, almost falling. He tried to play it cool by adjusting the collar of his coat with a scowl and continuing as though nothing had happened: "Fact is, Whitechapel is headed for a real shit storm, and apparently – or so we've heard – you're the only one who's wise to it. Now, if you'd be so kind." He gestured to the door frame. Joe heaved a sigh – always doom and gloom, it seemed.

"Come in... Spike."

"Thanks." said Spike, gingerly stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him, giving Joe a backhanded "nice tie" before walking past him and Miles in the direction of the living room, followed closely by Talia.

"Who the hell are you people? What do you mean, 'shit storm'?" Joe shouted after them as he trailed behind with Miles hot on his heels. Spike had already found the kitchen, it seemed, as when Joe rounded the corner to join the new guests in the living room he was drinking from the opened carton of eggnog – much to Mansell's protest. Everyone else had shifted into a stunned silence, presents quite forgotten. Talia, with a huge smile plastered across her face was admiring the Christmas tree, fingers extended.

"Don't touch that!" Joe snapped, raising his voice. "And answer me. What the bloody hell is going on?"

Talia dropped her hands, disappointed. Spike settled himself in Joe's spot on the sofa, next to Kent, who recoiled. Seeing he'd scared him, Spike flashed him a wolfish grin.

"Friends of yours, Boss?" Kent asked nervously.

"Soon to be." confirmed Talia, hopping up to sit on the sideboard and letting her legs dangle. "You guys should probably leave now. This is high-profile stuff. Chandler's eyes only."

"They stay." said Joe, firmly. "We're a team. Just tell me what's going on. "

Spike put the eggnog carton on the floor and fished inside his coat until he brought out a folded wad of paper, which he offered to Joe.

"Old bird in the picture calls herself Louise Iver," Spike explained as Joe leafed through the many illustrations and photographs. Some of them were historical drawings, dating back to at least the sixteenth century – they were poor drawings though. Hardly concrete evidence. Joe felt his heart plummet as he came across a picture of the Kray twins – the real Kray twins – with Iver visible in the background looking not a day older than she had a Buchan's book launch.

"These are like the ones from Wingfield's files – about the provocateur. Where did you get these?" Miles asked, watching over Joe's shoulder as he flipped through the images. At the mention of the late MI6 operative, Ed gave a start. He rose from his place on the sofa, discarding his gift on the floor by his feet and practically shoulder barged Miles out of the way in the process of trying to get a look at the documents. Miles gave a heave of frustration and went to sit next to Riley.

"Haven't heard of this Wingfield guy, but sounds like he was on the right track. Most of this is in on the internet or in libraries anyway. Wasn't too hard to put together once we knew what we wanted."Spike explained as he settled himself further into the leather sofa and reached once more for the eggnog. Joe handed the wad of pictures to Buchan who happily began poring over them, muttering to himself.

"Okay..." Joe stated, both unimpressed and confused. "But it doesn't answer my question. What's this got to do with you two and us? Why are you interested in her? She's just a nasty old lady... that doesn't seem to age... "

"That's where things start to get complicated," Talia hopped down from her perch on the sideboard, reaching into her coat pocket and producing a large book.

"How the hell'd you fit that in there?" demanded Mansell in disbelief. Talia shrugged nonchalantly.

"Expanded holding spell. Nothing major." She handed the book to Joe. It was a heavy tome, entitled 'EVILE AND ITS MANY FORMES' bound in leather encircled with a buckled strap.

"Not exactly a light bedtime read," Joe observed as he undid the strap and began to flip through the yellowing pages. "Vampires... demons... werewolves... And who're the Gentlemen?"

"No-one you need worry about," Spike assured him with a pained expression.

"Hang on a bloody minute," Mansell said, standing from the sofa with hands on hips, " _Vampires, demons and werewolves?_ You can't actually be serious about this. It's mad." He turned on Talia, "and what the hell is an 'expanded holding spell'? D'ya think I'm stupid?" he gestured wildly to her face, and then to Spike, "With your bloody coloured contacts and hair dye, you're not fooling anyone."

"Yeah," agreed Kent, "None of that stuff's _real_. This has gotta be some kind of joke, boss."

There were exclamations of agreement across the room. Talia's expression became hard.

"We were told you'd take this seriously, Joseph."

"It's Detective Inspector to you, and I was prepared to take this seriously. However, this fairy tale nonsense of demons and vampires isn't what we do. I'd like you both to leave, please." Joe held out the book for her to take.

Talia didn't seem to acknowledge Joe had said anything, totally ignoring the book in his outstretched hand. She calmly settled herself back on the sideboard and placed her hands in her lap.

"I think we ought to put our faces on, don't you, Spike?"

Spike chugged the last of the eggnog and tossed the carton aside (much to Joe's distress), messily wiping his mouth with the back of a hand as he stood up.

"Yeah," he said, with a roll of his neck, letting the bones crack, "why not?" All of a sudden, Spike hunched his shoulders up, before quickly throwing his head back. There was a collective gasp when he finally straightened up, revealing his face. His handsome features were now marred by a protruding, primitive brow, which twisted his expression into a permanent scowl. This was not helped by the huge fangs that were just a touch too big for his mouth, pulling his lips forward slightly. His now yellow eyes flashed, seemingly delighted by the reaction, and Spike bared his teeth in a smirk, but it looked more like a grimace than a grin. Talia, meanwhile, didn't appear to have changed much at all. The Joe noticed the skin around her wrists and neck were changing from tan into a vivid red. The hue spread along her fingers and across her jaw; when it reached her hairline, her hair erupted into flame.

"You feeling chatty now, Chandler?" Spike asked smugly. Joe nodded.

"I'm listening."


	3. Chapter 3

Satisfied that she had the undivided attention of the squad, Talia snapped her fingers and the fire immediately went out. Her hair returned to its original auburn bouncy curl, and the red tinge of her skin slowly began to fade. Spike apparently opted to continue with his current appearance; he sat back down next to Kent, who had turned an unnatural shade of ashy grey. Joe returned his attention to the book.

"What are we up against?"

"It's a little hard to explain," admitted Talia. She motioned to the volume, "All the basics are in there."

"Basics?" piped up Mansell, "You mean there's more than just vampires, witches and werewolves?"

"'Fraid so, copper." Replied Spike with a snicker.

"So what are you then, beast boy?" Mansell continued, arrogance rising in his tone, "A golem? Or maybe a wendigo?" he extended his hands, wiggling his fingers for added effect.

Spike didn't rise to the constable, simply choosing to languidly raise an eyebrow, drawing the insides of his cheeks between his teeth in a smirk.

"He's a vampire," said Joe, piecing the clues together in his head. He could hardly believe he was saying the words aloud. "I had to invite him in." Spike smiled at the inspector for a moment.

"Well, give the man a cigar," he drawled. Joe thought perhaps he saw a gleam of begrudging respect in Spike's eyes before the vampire hardened his gaze, turning to look at Finlay. Mansell settled himself backward into the sofa looking sheepish.

"What about you, then?"asked a very pale faced Riley, directing the question at Talia.

"A fire sprite," she replied with a thin smile. She held up a hand, allowing a tiny flame to dance across her fingertips. Her expression turned sad, however, and the flame snuffed out. "My powers are greatly diminished now."There was a pause as she watched the smoke trickle upward and dissipate into the air. Joe found himself hoping the smell wouldn't linger – he was nearly out of air freshener.

"Basics?" prompted Ed, with a familiar look of passionate enthusiasm that Joe knew far too well. He wandered over to his original place in the armchair by the sideboard and sat down, as if preparing for bad news: albeit a tad melodramatically. "Do you know what manner of monster it is we seek?"

"We know what this thing is, the covens all agree on it. We just don't know why; we're still having to rely on guesswork and fairy tales-" Talia began.

"I imagine you don't get many of those..." muttered Mansell, arising momentarily from his sulky stupor. He was silenced from making any further comments with a scathing look from Joe. Spike got up and casually removed the book from Joe's slightly relaxed grip, getting a touch too close for his liking. Joe recoiled at the smell of cigarette smoke and the distinct coppery tinge of fresh blood. But that face...

"Can you... Can you take that-" Joe made an inarticulate gesture over his own features. Spike grinned as he began flipping through the thick pages.

"Rattled you, have I, Inspector? Bit different to that _Twilight_ bull, isn't it?" Joe found himself nursing a keen dislike for the vampire. He steeled himself and glared at Spike. After a few moments of tense silence, Spike handed the open book to Ed and tapped pointedly on the left hand page.

"You sound like the geeky sorta type. You heard of this before?"

Ed huffed slightly at the remark, obviously offended. "I am a researcher-"

"Good. So you can read." Interrupted Spike bluntly, pointing again to the book. "Why don't you fill us all in."

Ed heaved a deep sigh and adjusted the book on his lap – setting the scene – before he cleared his throat and - making sure everyone was listening - began:

"Before there was man, there was Evil. Before there were demons, there was Evil. Before there was the Slayer, there was Evil. Before the Watchers: Evil. The First Evil. The Evil with no name. The Eternal."

A pause.

"That's it?"asked Kent, looking disappointed.

"That's it." Buchan confirmed with a deflated sigh. "There's not much to go on. And I can't say it's a myth with which I am familiar."

"It's not a myth – but it is an old book," Talia explained, "Since then we've learned more about The First; Spike can tell you all about it."

Spike scowled, almost letting out a growl. He snatched the book back from Ed and handed it roughly back to Talia, who received it with a cheeky grin.

"The First is basically evil in its purest form; a manifestation of all the evil in the world. Nasty bastard, too." Spike flopped into the empty spot next to Kent and folded his arms. "Can take the non-corporeal form of any dead person it likes, and likes to fuck with your head. Not much more to say than that."

"But what's a Slayer? Or a Watcher?"asked Riley. Talia waved a hand, dismissing the question.

"That's not important right now; what is important is that The First is winding up for another crack at the balance and it's here. In Whitechapel. As an old lady."

"Not really that scary then, is it?" Mansell laughed, "What – a nasty old lady as all the evil in the world?"

"Precisely that." Spike snapped at him. "All the evil in the _entire world_. Every bad thing to happen anywhere, The First began it. The apple in Eden, the Black Death, the Great Fire of London, the Titanic, the First World War; the Holocaust, for God's sake – it all stems from the First. You may joke, mate," Spike continued , now nose to nose with Mansell, "but unless you buck up and face fact you are gonna be in for a world of pain." He paused, standing up straight again. "All of you are."

Silence settled on the room as everyone contemplated Spike's words. Joe collapsed into a nearby chair. Suddenly he was exhausted. The lights were too bright and suddenly the decorations that were once homely had become garish and harsh. Joe reached for the tiger balm in his pocket, applying a generous coat to each temple. Miles shuffled awkwardly, noticing Chandler's discomfort. Spike scanned the ashen faces of the group. Nobody returned eye contact.

"I told you, Talia." He said, gesturing to the room, "It's too much for these saps to handle. We should've gone straight to Buffy."

"What makes you think Buffy even wants to see you?" Talia replied casually. She hopped down from the sideboard. "These 'saps' are the best we have right now; they know the area, they can get the leg work done, they-"

"Are sitting right here, you know." Kent piped up, getting shakily to his feet. "You can't just barge in like this, tell us all this stuff about monsters and vampires and e _vil_ and just expect us to take it! We can't legally help you even if we wanted to; sharing case files with civilians, it'd be a huge breach of protocol... it's mad!"

Spike suddenly rounded on Kent; Joe was immediately on his feet, but the vampire, now nose to nose with the officer, didn't appear violent. Instead, he sighed, another languid smirk forming – only this time it held bitterness.

"Proof's in the pudding, Talia." Spike held eye contact, Kent bravely unwavering. "They don't have the stones."

In a swirl of leather and the faint tang of cigarette smoke, Spike stormed out of the room. Joe felt the walls shake slightly as the front door was slammed shut. Mansell exhaled loudly, slowly getting up from the sofa.

"Charming."

"He'll grow on you. Call me when you get something new." Talia slipped a business card into the front pocket of Chandler's shirt, patting it once, lightly. "And if you know what's good for you, you will."

Joe listened, dazed, as her footsteps faded down the hallway. A faint thump as the front door closed, then silence. Joe returned to the tiger balm in his pocket.


End file.
